


You Found Me and Finders Keep

by countingpaperstars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Flower)Bed Sharing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Artist!Noctis, Book Club, Emotional Sex, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Morning Sex, Pining, Professor!Ignis, Sexual Content, Sleepy Cuddles, Slice of Life, Smut, Spoilers, ish, noct isn't technically a student, prom is the instigator and gladio is the accidental cockblock as per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingpaperstars/pseuds/countingpaperstars
Summary: There is a bowl that sits at the front left corner of Ignis’ desk blown from a beautiful blue glass which shimmers when the sun shines at just the right angle around three in the afternoon. He stares at it now, scrutinizing the contents carefully until one thing is obvious: someone has been stealing from his candy dish.In which Ignis catches a thief with a sad smile and Noctis catches some feelings.





	1. Stolen Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ignoct Week and Happy Birthday to Ignis!! <33
> 
> I'm back at it with the chapter a day fanweek fic. I'm trying to think out of the box with the prompts so we'll see how it goes. I hope you like it! Title is from Peach (Lobotomy) by Waterparks.
> 
> Day One: Stolen Kisses
> 
> Enjoy~

There is a bowl that sits at the front left corner of Ignis’ desk blown from a beautiful blue glass which shimmers when the sun shines at just the right angle around three in the afternoon. Aranea had given it to him as a congratulations gift on landing his job here, and as such, was one of the first personal items to take stock in his lecture hall. He stares at it now, scrutinizing the contents carefully until one thing is obvious: someone has been _stealing_ from his candy dish. Though perhaps that is not the correct word to use here - _overindulging_ would suit it better.

Ignis sighs, opening his desk drawer to grab the half-empty bag and refill the bowl with glimmering foil-wrapped Hershey chocolates once more. He’d have to keep a closer eye out for the culprit or he’d soon run out. Thankfully this semester he only has a few classes to teach outside of his office hours, making the suspect list relatively short. 

The university he teaches is decently attended and staffed, neither sprawling nor cramped, and Ignis is fortunate to have found his place here. It was hard to find somewhere willing to accept such a young professor, but his talent at his age were almost unheard of and they'd seen his potential. Mostly he's grateful for the opportunity to have hand in helping others with their journeys for knowledge and teaching, he’s found, is often a rewarding job in and of itself. He never thought he’d be here, standing up at the front of a hall much like those he’d attend during his own education, but now that he is, he can’t envision himself anywhere else.

His lecture that day goes smoothly enough and several students deign to answer his questions now and again with well-thought-out answers - which is always a relief and happy occasion. Ignis is not blind to his reputation among the students. Some are here because they find the way he approaches his lessons to actually be involving and riveting and some only attend so they'll have a valid reason to ogle at him. As someone who's always treated his body as a means to an end and not the goal itself, Ignis has never before been so aware of his own physique before. He knows he is not unattractive, but he mostly chocks the heavy interest up to his young age as compared to the others of his position.

Before he knows it, the allotted block of time has ended and the students shuffle to gather their papers as he moves to tidy his own notes. He leaves the whiteboard alone for those still copying everything down, eyeing a blonde boy in the back who’s furiously scribbling things down onto his paper.

He’s almost completely forgotten about the chocolates when there's movement out of the corner of his eye and without thinking he snaps out to grab the wrist attached to the offending hand currently buried deep into his candy dish. It’s slender, almost delicate, and Ignis’ long fingers wrap easily around it. It’s also attached to a boy, one with dark hair still sleep-tousled and bright eyes blinking up at him slowly. Ignis has seen him before, lingering around the doorway of the classroom to wait for his friend – the blonde, he thinks. Bright red spills across the boy’s cheeks like paint on canvas, and it’s only then Ignis realizes he’s still got his fingers wrapped firmly around his wrist and lets go.

“Apologies,” he says, moving instead to fix the edge of his shirt sleeve riding up under his jacket. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips and he crosses his arms, hip leaning against the side of the desk. “So, you’re the one who’s been stealing all my kisses.”

The boy’s blush goes impressively dark, his eyes flickering down Ignis' face and away as he rocks on his heels and burries his hands deep into his pockets. “Sorry. I just, uh, assumed they were up for grabs.”

“Certainly,” says Ignis as a fondness rises in his chest, “but why don’t we leave a few for the others next time, hm?” He reaches into the dish and grabs a couple of the candies to hold out to the boy, who takes them hesitantly.

“Noct!” shouts the blonde, so loud it reverberates in the hall as he scrambles down the stairs to meet them.

His name is... ah yes, Prompto Argentum, a diligent student with solid and creative ideas in his essays, though they could use some work structurally. Prompto slides to a stop in front of them and throws his arm around Noct’s shoulders. “I see you’ve met Professor Scientia,” he says brightly. “This is Noctis, I always tell him the good parts from your classes!”

“The good parts?” asks Ignis in amusement. 

Awkwardly holding the candies in his closed hand, Noctis still won't look him in the eye. “ _All_ of it’s the good part."

“I’m flattered. It’s a pleasure to meet you Noctis. Are you a student here?”

Noctis’ mouth sets in a flat grimace. “Nah, I just hang around Prom. I’m all set to inherit the family business.” He says it with such a rehearsed verbatim that Ignis frowns and notices the misery hidden in the tight line of his jaw and the dark skin under his eyes. It's painful to see someone so young so burdened.

“Well,” Ignis says, decisively. “You’re always welcome to attend my lectures regardless. Far be it from me to curb curiosity.”

“Thanks."

“See ya next week!” says Prompto, steering Noctis out of the room and launches into chatter about some new video game as they go. It’s quiet when they leave and Ignis looks down at the bowl still full of Hershey kisses, trying to drive out any lingering thoughts about Noctis, with his downward gaze and the ghost touch of his wrist beneath Ignis’ hand, but doesn't succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it feel free to let me know down below! Two words will make my night <3
> 
> [tumblr](http://thenameisfame.tumblr.com) | [writing blog](http://countingpaperstars.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/thenameisfame)


	2. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Noctis scrambles to remember his excuse. “I wanted to ask, what happened in Altissia? At the end of the story you referenced the other day.”_
> 
> _There’s a beat of silence and Ignis smiles, small but genuine. “I'm afraid it’s terribly sad... and it doesn’t get better from there. Are you sure you want me to tell you?”_
> 
> In which Noctis approaches his muse and has a surprising heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a massively different tone than the one I wrote for Promnis Week but I'm having fun exploring the differences in the two relationships! Again, I've gone with a different sort of take on the prompt today. Hope you like it.
> 
> Day Two: Noctis learns what happened in Altissa (part one)

There’s a sunbeam that shines through the far line of windows and hits the blue candy dish on Professor Scientia’s desk around mid-afternoon. It’s not glaring - hardly draws any attention away from where the students are deeply enthralled in his lecture - but Noctis notices it anyways. He’s not a student after all, not technically, and has time to pick up on the smaller things. 

His eyes flick back and forth from the front of the room to the page before him as he adds the dish to the sketch he’s working on, chin resting in his free hand propped up on the bench desk. He’s listening of course, but more so to the lilt of Professor Scientia’s accent dipping and rising than the actual lecture itself. His voice fills the empty spaces in the hall, weaving an easy web of monologue as he methodically draws out a chart on the whiteboard explaining the historical context of Altissia that Prompto scribbles down onto his own paper in a frantic haste to copy everything. It’s an interesting topic from what Noctis can tell, but he is far more interested in Scientia.

In his sketchbook he focuses on tracing the line of said professor’s shoulders onto the paper. He has a beautiful profile, all sharp angles and intelligent eyes the color of spring. Noctis could spend hours trying to mix the right color for them and he hasn’t quite managed to capture his hairstyle, but Noctis likes a challenge and now he has an open invitation to sit for a full two hours each week to try and perfect it.

He’s never had a muse before - that’s what he assumes this is, his blooming infatuation filling more pages in his sketchbook than he’s managed to in the last two months combined - and to think all it'd taken was that fateful day he’d wandered over to pick up Prom and spotted _him._ After being whisked away, Noctis couldn’t get him out of his mind, idly drawing an angled shoulder or curve of a jaw when he was supposed to be paying attention in meetings. It isn’t a crush... probably. He just admired the elegant stature of this man and the grip of his long fingers around his wrist. Noctis hadn’t meant to steal too many his candies, but he'd always had such a sweet tooth, and he'd do it time and time again if it meant being the sole focus of Scientia's attention again, if only for a little while.

He barely notices when the class is dismissed, too wrapped up in shading the folds of Scientia’s rolled up shirt sleeves. Prompto's still cramming notes onto his paper, but when he finishes he pats Noctis on the back and narrowly avoids messing up his next line. The classroom is practically empty, only a few lingering students packing up and of course, Professor Scientia leaning over his desk. Noctis tries not to stare.

The next few days pass in a whirlwind of meetings and dinners and crammed sketchbook pages. Most of the time Noctis feels his life is merely a hurricane of obligations with clarity only found during the lectures at the eye of the storm. He likes learning things and he likes that he isn’t under pressure to retain it, though Scientia's excellent teaching makes things nearly impossible to forget.

Regardless, this is the excuse Noctis has ringing in his head when he finds himself planted firmly outside the professor’s door. He stands there longer than he'd like to admit, but luckily no one passes in the hall to see him awkwardly shuffling his feet and raising a hand a few times to knock only to drop it immediately. Finally, he breathes in deep and raps on the wood a few times before snatching his hand back, rocking on his toes as he waits for an answer.

“Yes? Come in,” comes Scientia's voice and he enters, shutting the door behind him. “Noctis. I hadn’t expected to see you during office hours.”

It’s later in the day, at the tail end of his office hours so as to avoid barging in on another student, and Scientia’s been working hard, scattered papers all over the surface of his desk and a few strands of hair falling out of his immaculate hairstyle as if he’s run his hands through it. The office is modestly sized, stocked with several leafy plants lined up along the windowsills and lit by lamps that bathe the room in an intimate glow. 

Mouth inexplicably dry, Noctis hovers before he’s waved towards the armchair before the desk. It’s soft and plush, and although he tries to sit up straight and on edge he inevitably sinks into it. 

“Now,” says Scientia, readjusting a rolled sleeve as the shadows play off the muscles of his forearm. “How may I be of assistance?”

Noctis scrambles to remember his excuse. “I wanted to ask, what happened in Altissia? At the end of the story you referenced the other day.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Ignis smiles, small but genuine. “I'm afraid it’s terribly sad... and it doesn’t get better from there. Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

Noctis isn’t sure about much of anything anymore. 

They’d only touched on the story briefly in reference to another point, but something about the hint of tragedy was reassuringly familiar. Sensing his hesitation, Scientia pushes out of his chair to cross the room to a packed bookshelf, head tilting to the side as he browses the titles there. Noctis tries not to stare, and fails, but he quickly pulls his gaze up to a respectable height when Scientia turns back around. 

“Here,” he says, handing Noctis a book. “You can discover it for yourself, spoiler-free.” 

With a quiet thank you Noctis takes it and briefly flips through the pages. It's been a while since he's allowed himself to indulge in the story of another world, but he'd be happy to do it again. He feels Scientia’s curious gaze on him and ducks under the weight of it. 

“Let's try again. What is the real reason you've come to me?”

Chewing on his lips, Noctis peeks up from under his lashes and runs his fingers along the book, glad to have something to fidget with as he collects his words. “How did you get to where you are?” The question earns him a blank look so Noctis barrels on, unable to stop the words now that he’s started. “I mean, you can’t be much older than me, twenty-three? Twenty-four? And you’re here like, teaching already. When did you _know_ what you wanted to do?”

He manages to shut his mouth and shifts in his seat. There’s a pit burning low in his stomach, coals of envy and frustration, and he knows it must show in his expression at least a little. He's never had a good poker face. The silence is charged, rippling with energy as his words settle over them and Scientia folds and re-folds his hands atop his desk. It’s a long moment before he replies.

“Well, that’s a trick question isn’t it?” he says and Noctis scrunches his brow in confusion. “There’s no one thing we can do. In fact, you can aspire to a great many things over the span of your life. Opportunities come and go and sometimes you'll have a change of heart for the better. The hard part is you have to start somewhere.”

“Oh," says Noctis, feeling small in his seat. It's always been one set path for him and the thought of just how much _choice_ there is out there is overwhelming. He rubs his damp palms discreetly against his pants.

“I’m twenty-two, by the way,” Scientia says wryly and it snaps the tension in half and pulls a wobbly smile out of Noctis. “We all have our different paths, I was merely set on mine earlier than most and occasionally I wonder if that was a good thing.”

The shadows of the late hour accentuate not only the sharp line of his jaw, but the dark skin beneath his eyes as well and something fierce rises up in Noctis. “Of course it was, it brought you here didn’t it? And you’re so good at what you do and you genuinely care and everyone loves your lessons and not just because you’re you, but because you make them interesting and you’re so passionate that you make us want to care too – you make _me_ care and I’m not even a student.” He realizes he’s rambling and snaps his jaw shut with a click.

Fortunately, Scientia doesn’t seem angry at all, his eyebrows shooting up before he drops his head, pausing to push his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “Thank you," he says quietly and it’s then that Noctis sees his age in their shared insecurities. When Scientia's collected himself, he drops his arms and leans forward. “What would you do if you had the chance, Noctis?” 

He shrugs one shoulder awkwardly, although he already knows the answer - it’s as ingrained into him as the ink staining his fingers. “Art school." 

It feels vulnerable spoken in the half-light of the room and Noctis curls in on himself. He's never said it aloud before. Prompto knows, but he knows it in that intuitive way he knows everything about Noctis without him having to say so, but Scientia’s reaction holds no judgment and Noctis wonders why he was afraid, why he's _still_ afraid.

“Have you spoken with your family about pursuing your interests?”

“No," says Noctis and he slouches further in his seat. He’s definitely spilled too much already, been too bare with someone he barely knows, but between the open expression on Scientia's face and the secluded atmosphere of the room - so quiet and without time that it's almost as if they’re on an entirely different plane together - the words spill from his lips without hesitance. “I don’t want… to be a disappointment.” 

It's small when he says it, barely there at all, and there’s something firm in Scientia’s eyes and the downturn of his lips. “I highly doubt you could be, no matter their reaction,” he says with a decisive finality. “The point is, the answer will always be no unless you ask.”

“Right." It's the truth, and he's known it subconsciously for a long time. He'll have to confront it someday, but he’s not so sure if he’s ready to face it yet. For now, he’d rather keep his desires safe and sound tucked away. They feel too fragile to bring them out in the light of day. “It’s late, I should go.” 

When Noctis stands, his legs creak and falter and he absently wonders what time it is. In the space they've carved out together, it almost feels as though it hasn't passed at all. Scientia rises and follows him and they pause in the doorway, Noctis squeezing the solid book in his hands and reluctant to leave the cocoon of the office for the harsher realities of his life. The hurricane is passing, ready to sweep him away once more. 

“Thank you Professor Scientia,” Noctis says, gesturing to the book, but also everything else as well. 

“You may call me Ignis, if you like” he says, eyes dropping away as he crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb. “No matter what you choose Noctis, you have my support, as a friend if nothing else.”

“Ignis,” Noctis corrects, the name rolling off his tongue with ease. It takes up residence in his chest as they say their goodbyes and by the time he makes it out of the university it’s sprouted into something warm and blooming. As the days pass and the storm of his week threatens to overturn him, Noctis draws and reads in-between the endless meetings and gets lost in a world unlike his own. It keeps him tethered and sparks a small, tentative flicker of hope for brighter days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are curious, the world's youngest professor is Alia Sabur - she was hired for the Department of Advanced Technology Fusion at Konkuk University at 18 years old! Next chapter will have Noct's full reaction to the story (in addition to the next prompt) so that will be fun ahah. Thank you again so much for reading!! Let me know if you like it down below <3


	3. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What is it?” he asks one day in late December, flipping over the gilded envelope to open the seal. Inside is a thick paper with embossed calligraphy across the front, detailing an invitation to the Annual Lucis Caelum Industries Yuletide Masquerade Ball. It's an unnecessarily long title and takes Ignis several read-overs to understand as Noctis ducks his head and scuffs his feet bashfully._
> 
> In which Noctis and Ignis accidentally form an unofficial book club and Noctis asks for a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eurgh, I haven't been feeling very well the last couple days, but I managed to get this out alright. Shoutout to Tera for being an awesome sounding board. I hope that because this chapter's the longest one yet it makes up for the fact that it's late ;; It also has the end of the last prompt (Noctis learns what happened in Altissia) as well as the next one, which is,
> 
> Day Three: Masquerade Ball
> 
> Enjoy~

Ignis shouldn’t be here. He should absolutely not be here, but Noctis needs him to be, so he is.

“Your mask is crooked,” says Noctis, and they pause outside the main hall so he can fix it. His own masquerade is a deep blue which compliments his eyes and Ignis realizes he’s staring a second too late as a smirk pulls at Noctis' lips. When he finishes, his fingers linger. “There, perfect. Ready?”

In lieu of answering, Ignis merely holds out the crook of his elbow, Noctis sliding in close as they enter the glittering room arm-in-arm.

\--

A whole three days after Noctis first drops by during office hours he storms back in with all the fury of Leviathan herself, the door ricocheting so hard off the wall that Ignis is sure it’s bound to leave a dent. He jumps, sending a few papers scattering from where he’d been grading them, and without preamble Noctis strides right up to the desk and slams a book down with a bang. It’s the same one he’d lent him, well-worn and well-loved, and Noctis leans over it with a fire in his eyes as they analyzing each other in silence, save Noctis' panting and Ignis’ heartbeat thudding in his chest.

“I take it you've finished?” he asks, fighting the curl of his lips.

“What,” Noctis grits out, jaw clenched, “the FUCK?”

Unable hide his amusement, Ignis smiles as Noctis bangs his hand on the book again. “What the fuck was this? Chapter nine? Of all the shitty – oh and don’t get me started on the ENDING!” He whirls away, running his hands through his hair in agitation as he pivots back and forth in the space between the desk and the chairs before it. “They didn’t even try to find another way? They just _accepted_ it? Also fuck the astrals! What hypocritical bullshit-?” With a final angry shout, Noctis plops into one of the chair and slouches down so far he almost slips right off the seat, his frown strong enough to curdle milk. “Explain.”

“Apologies, Noctis. I did warn you it was rather sad," says Ignis, picking up the book and flipping through it. “Is it not better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?”

Noctis makes a wounded noise, lips pulling into a truly impressive pout. “I mean, yeah, but they could’ve… I don’t know, done anything! You know? At least like, _tried_ to prevent it.”

In all honesty, Ignis agrees the ‘one savior for the world’ cliché is overdone, but it’s truly the characters that carry his fondness for the story. “Who was your favorite? I’m partial to the Chosen King. The care he had for his people and his companions, as well as his sacrifice, was truly admirable.”

“I liked the adviser,” says Noctis, still caught up stewing in his frustration. He pauses and Ignis allows him time to really think about his answer. “I think he loved him, the king. He was devoted and selfless and he always supported the king, even though he didn’t get a lot of thanks in return - even after everything bad that happened to him because of it.”

“A fair assessment, though I daresay the affection was not unrequited. I’m certain the king struggled between his duty and his desire, in the end." Ignis hums thoughtfully and stands to return the book to its shelf, pausing there to scan for another title and tugging it free. He runs his fingers over the faded cover, and passes it over. “Why don’t you try this one? It may be more towards your liking.”

Noctis cracks a smile, opens the cover then and there, and turns to kick his legs up over the arm of the chair and settle in comfortably. It's not what Ignis was expecting, but he fits so naturally into the setting of the room, almost as if he belongs there, so Ignis returns to his grading, unable to contain the warm feeling simmering brightly in his chest.

And that’s how their unofficial book club begins. 

Every other day or so Noctis appears, usually around lunch time, and they discuss where he is in the novel as they eat together. After a week, he brings in his own books for Ignis to read. They’re a little on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of his preferred genres, but he discovers it’s easier to find an interest in the plots when discussing them with someone so passionately a fan.

Those days are his favorite, and they're also the most common, but there are also those where Noctis comes in with dark smudges beneath his hollow eyes and sinks deeply into the chair rapidly becoming known to Ignis as _his_ chair without a word. Those days they sit in silence, Noctis drawing in his sketchbook that’s always on hand and Ignis working on his paperwork or grading and tries hard not reach across the gap between him and take his hand. He’s happy to provide a haven for him here for him to retreat to at the very least.

“What is it?” he asks one day in late December, flipping over the gilded envelope to open the seal. 

Inside is a thick paper with embossed calligraphy across the front that details an invitation to the Annual Lucis Caelum Industries Yuletide Masquerade Ball. It's an unnecessarily long title and takes Ignis several read-overs to understand as Noctis ducks his head and scuffs his feet bashfully.

“Prompto’s working that night,” he says. “I need someone to go with and I thought, maybe…? But if not, it’s okay. We can forget about it.” He reaches abruptly for the envelope, but Ignis pulls it away and reads it over once more.

“I accept."

The words escape him before he even thinks and it's apparently not what Noctis was expecting either as he stares in shock, before quickly recovering enough to gift him with a brilliant smile. Ignis can’t begin to regret his words. 

They exchange numbers to keep in touch, about the event of course, but it spirals into hours each night discussing the plots of their books and snapshots of Noctis' latest art project. By accident, Ignis falls into the habit of smiling at his phone, enough that Aranea remarks on it at their regular catch-up brunch. It's been a while since the last one, both of them swept up in the chaos of their everyday lives.

“So who’re you talking to, lover boy?” she teases, but raises her hands in surrender at his exasperated glare. “Suit yourself, but you know I’ll find out one way or another.”

Rolling his eyes, Ignis instead types out a quick reply to the silly trivia fact Noctis had sent to him about chocobos Prompto was rambling about and turns back to his tea.

“Will your family be there?” he asks one week as they peruse their respective novels. It’s snowing outside, casting the room in a muted yellow light, and it only serves as reminder that the Yuletide ball is just around the corner.

Noctis’ focused face is ridiculously endearing, nose wrinkled in concentration as he reads his latest tome with the thick cover and a chunk of pages wrapped around the back of the book carefully. “My father will be, yeah.”

“Have you,” Ignis starts, hesitant to disrupt the comfortable atmosphere between them. He clears his throat and tries again. “Have you spoken with him at all? About perhaps pursing art school?”

The effect is immediate - Noctis eyes go flat and he gives a bad excuse of a smile, shaking his head. It hurts when he's concealed and distant, so Ignis doesn’t bring it up again. 

Instead, he spends the following weeks in preparation, brushing up on his etiquette and searching for an adequate mask to adhere to the theme. Formal wear is no problem, as suits are a part of his daily wardrobe, but still he worries over which cut and which color. 

As they enter the event he begins to feel more at ease. It’s a stunning open hall, decked out with an enormous tree set back against the floor to ceiling windows, sparkling with lights and silver garlands. The crowd of guests dressed to the nines in sleek gowns and suits is not unlike the formal parties he’s been subjected to before, but as he slips into his relaxed charisma, the grip on his arm tightens painfully. 

Before he can ask Noctis if he’s alright, an older man stops before them. He’s intimidating, elegant and stately in his movements, but his bright eyes belie a youthful soul as he greets them. 

“Noctis,” he says warmly and pulls him in for a hug, shooting Ignis a mischievous smile over his shoulder. It’s the same one Noctis gets when he correctly works out another mystery in the books he’s reading before it's revealed, and Ignis goes rigid with nerves. “And who might this be?”

“Ignis," says Noctis. "Ignis, this is my father.”

Mr. Caelum’s grip is firm when they come together for a handshake. “It’s lovely to meet you, though I fear while my son has spoken of you, it's hardly in as much detail I’d wish to know of one of his friends.” Ignis blushes faintly, but his mask is cut low enough over his cheeks to shield it from view.

“Dad,” pleads Noctis quietly and Mr. Caelum laughs and pats him on the shoulder.

Ignis collects his thoughts enough to formulate a response. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, sir.”

“Certainly. I won’t bother you any longer. I hope you enjoy the festivities, Ignis, and thank you for keeping my son company.” 

There’s a knowing gleam in his eyes and Ignis clears his throat. “But of course.”

“C’mon Iggy,” says Noctis and tugs him away and into the middle of the dance floor to escape. The nickname is new and something fierce rises up in Ignis’ chest at the familiarity in both it and the hand tugging him along. They stop on the other side of the floor and Ignis draws close, hand moving to rest under his shoulder blade as the other pulls Noctis’ into position.

“Noctis, I wasn’t aware your father is the owner of Caelem Industries,” Ignis says softly as they find the next three-beat in the song and blend into the others already waltzing around the floor. He isn’t upset, but he is a bit shaken and would’ve preferred a warning in order to prepare.

“Yeah well, I didn’t know you could dance,” Noctis retorts, folding easily into the push and pull of Ignis’ lead, free hand warm where it rests on his shoulder.

“Fair enough." Ignis' having a hard time tearing his eyes from Noctis enough to watch where they’re going, but he manages. He's radiant in the lighting as the colors playing off the rise of his cheekbones, hair dark and striking against the cut of his jaw, but he manages.

Noctis huffs. “Well, I’d like to change that,” he says, ducking his head shyly. “Not knowing things about you.”

The warm feeling is back, threatening to spill over Ignis’ chest and slip them up, but he reins it in enough to say, "And I as well.” It’s worth it for the way Noctis draws closer, hand squeezing tightly in Ignis’ grip as they spin and spin.

They part ways when the guests finally retreat to their cars to make for home. Noctis walks Ignis to his, pushing his mask up to rest in his hair as they leave the event hall and his face is different without the fringe obscuring most of it, emphasizing the slight blush on his cheeks. It's strangely intimate to have Noctis’ expression open and vulnerable.

“Thank you Iggy, for coming with me.” He scuffs his toes and Ignis tries not to melt again at the nickname.

“It was my pleasure,” he says thickly.

Quick as a blink, Noctis rises up onto his toes and presses a soft kiss to his cheek and by the time Ignis remembers to move he’s halfway up the stairs, pausing only to give a small, final wave goodbye before he’s gone. He sets a hand to his cheek and smiles the whole drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know if you're enjoying this story with a comment down below <33


	4. (Flower)Bed Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Where’ve you been running off to so quick every day?”_
> 
> _“Nowhere,” says Noctis, too fast, and it earns him a blank face and raised eyebrow. “Book club?” he tries again and Gladio’s eyes narrow._
> 
> In which Noctis attempts to be increasingly obvious in his affections towards Ignis and Gladio shows up with a stack of novels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I fell off the on-time bandwagon, but rest assured I will be finishing this fic. If you're looking for day four: injury it's over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13651344) as a separate oneshot. I'm still trying to think out of the box with these prompts, so hope you like this! Shoutout to Tera for helping me kick this chapter's butt.
> 
> Day Five: ~~Flower~~ Bed Sharing
> 
> Enjoy~

Spring comes how it tends to every year - slowly, then all at once. 

With its arrival the infatuation in Noctis’ chest takes a deeper root and in the span of a few days – and a few off-putting rainstorms that made Noctis’ shoes horribly soggy – all of Insomnia is in bloom. The trees fill out with bright leaves and buds and the gardening stores sell out of planters faster than they can keep them in stock. Flower boxes and hanging baskets line the home and store fronts along Insomnia’s streets and sway in the breeze. Above, the sky hangs in perfect blue as wispy, cotton candy clouds float by the window without a care. 

There’s a fever burning hotly under Noctis’ skin as he watches, arm propped up on the long meeting table he’s seated at. He should be paying attention, but the endless graphs and numbers are making his eyes droop and all he can bring himself to do is stare at the greenery rustling outside the window. He wants nothing more than to cross the room and shove the windows wide open to let the fresh air revitalize all these stuffy suits where they sit. 

When the first rainstorm of the season came about, he and Ignis had been holed up in the latter’s office reading in the low light and Noctis was fighting hard not to doze as the water on the glass streaked the fresh colors of the outside into an impression. The slowing of the rain tapping against the panes had been indiscernible at first, but when the realization came they’d both raced for the windows, hands bumping on the latch and sending them both into spluttered apologies before Ignis finally pushed the two frames open as far as they could go. 

It was hard to remember to be embarrassed as they both leaned on the wide sill to breathe in the deep, earthy scent of the storm gone by. Ignis had given him a soft, secretive smile which sent Noctis’ heart spiraling, and from then on, whenever it wasn’t in complete downpour, the windows stayed open.

He get lost in thinking of the brush of their pinkies on the sill. Nothing much has changed between them after the night of the masquerade, which is alright with Noctis. He would’ve felt awful if he’d lost one of his few friends simply because he couldn’t hold back his greedy heart. The pages of his sketchbooks gave way to a tangible bond between them and he's come to accept that Ignis is no longer merely a muse, but while he doesn’t pull away, neither does he push forward - trapping them in an endless loop of lingering glances and touches. 

The frustration bubbles up in Noctis’ chest and into the darkened line of his pencil. What does it take to get a guy to kiss you anyways? He’d be willing to simply go for it again, but he also doesn’t want to press his luck; not when the ball is still in Ignis’ court. All he can do for now is wait… and maybe work on his bedroom eyes for when they both leave the office at the same time and get caught together in the doorway.

He’s thinking of how similar the shades of the leaves outside are to Ignis’ eyes when Gladio kicks him under the table and shoots him a questioning look. They can’t speak, not when Petrus is still droning on about projected net incomes, but Noctis glares at him and sits up in his seat, trying his best to pay attention again.

When the meeting finally adjourns, Noctis gathers his papers and makes for a speedy exit. He’s been careful around Gladio, knowing as soon as they speak alone he’ll see right through Noctis and wring every last bit of embarrassing info out of him like a wet sponge. Fortunately Gladio’s been out of town on a business trip and it's been easy to deflect, but now it’s only a matter of time before he puts two and two together. 

It’s not as if Noctis is hiding Ignis either, it’s just _tentative_ and he wants to keep that between them, if only for a little while longer. That is of course if Prompto hasn’t told Gladio everything already, in which case this conversation is about to get awkward fast.

Unfortunately, Gladio manages to snag him by the arm before he can disappear down the side stairwell. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t,” says Noctis, but he has. The gentle grip on his arm is comforting, not at all restrictive, and it’s then he realizes exactly how much he’s missed Gladio's precense.

His halfhearted claim does nothing to ease the crushed look in Gladio’s eyes and Noctis immediately feels guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, even as Gladio lets go. “Where’ve you been running off to so quick every day?”

“Nowhere,” says Noctis, too fast, and it earns him a blank face and raised eyebrow. “Book club?” he tries again and Gladio’s eyes narrow.

“Where on Eos have you joined a book club?” Gladio asks, sounding more confused than incredulous.Noctis almost physically smacks his own forehead, thinking of the stacks of volumes scattered around Gladio’s apartment - if anyone were to know of a book club in their finite social circles, it would be him.

Desperately trying to think on his feet, he stretches the truth. “At Prompto’s university. Uh, there’s one that’s open to whoever, if someone invites you.” It’s a weak attempt at best and he balks when Gladio’s narrowed eyes don’t ease up. “I’ll tell you more later,” he appeases, needing to escape, “but right now I’m late.”

This time he manages to duck around fast enough to enter the stairwell, or maybe Gladio lets him, and he takes his time going down the flights of stairs before exiting a few floors below to catch the elevator the rest of the way. There's a pit in his stomach at how he'd left the conversation, but he shakes it off best he can and stretches in the sunlight.

When he reaches Ignis’ office the windows are wide open and inviting, but the man is nowhere to be seen.

“Iggy?” Noctis calls hesitantly into the empty room. He must be nearby; he’d never leave them unattended unless he were close enough to close them for the afternoon storm.

He moves more into the room and nearly jumps out of his skin when Ignis pops up outside the window. “Noct,” he says, smiling brightly, and the warm way his voice curls around the nickname sends shivers down Noctis’ back.

“What are you doing out there?” he asks, unable to keep the fond amusement out of his voice as he crosses to the windowsill and leans his forearms against it. At this level, he's slightly taller than Ignis and it’s strange to be looking down at him instead of up, eyes trailing across the way he’s shoved his sleeves up and the dirt coating his knees.

“The university allows me to plant whatever I like in this patch of garden under my window in the spring. I don’t have class later so I figured, what with how lovely today has been, I’d much prefer spend my time outside.”

Noctis laughs and reaches out to swipe at a streak of dirt smeared across Ignis’ high cheekbone. “Sure seems like you’re having fun with it." 

At the touch, Ignis’ eyes grow dark, peering up at him from under his elegant lashes and Noct’s throat goes dry. Ever so gently, he strokes the rise of his cheekbone once more and Ignis catches his wrist without ever looking away, pressing a tender kiss to Noctis’ palm. It incites a burning blush that crawls up Noct's neck and catches Ignis' attention, if the satisfied smirk sprawls across his lips is anything to judge by. Tease.

Breathless, Noctis asks, “Can I help?”

“Of course." 

Ignis startles back when Noctis immediately hoists himself up onto the windowsill, hands shooting out to catch him when Noctis jumps and wrapping around his hips to steady him. His gaze feels too open and intense, so Noctis stares down at the meticulous rows along the ground instead.

“What are you planting?” he asks, stepping over the finished plots to carefully to kneel in the dirt. He doesn’t mind it; finds the moist earth beneath his fingers refreshing after so long a winter to be tangible, grounding.

“Sunflowers. They grow tall enough to be seen from the windows and I enjoy having something beautiful to watch when I’m stuck grading papers.” He’s isn't looking at the flowers, but at Noctis, who nearly combusts under the implication.

They turn to the garden and Noctis tries his best to be of help, but after a long row of unevenly spaced seeds, he’s banished to the empty side where he lays down with his arms tucked under his head and dozes in the shade of the tree above them. The dirt clings to the back of his neck and sticks to his hair, but it's no bother to him as long as Ignis is close, the heat of his legs pressed near Noctis’ arm as he works.

“Hey Iggy,” he starts and gets a noncommittal hum in response. “What… what are we?”

The crunch of the overturning dirt stops abruptly, leaving only the leaves fluttering overhead in the breeze before it picks up again and Ignis clears his throat. “We are, whatever you’d like us to be, I suppose." Noctis sits up, heart racing, but Ignis doesn’t look at him. “I care for you deeply, and I while know I don’t have a lot to offer-“

“You have more than enough to offer,” says Noctis, tugging his arm and reaching out to brush Ignis' cheek once more. The green of his eyes is not quite the same as the leaves outside the meeting room that morning, richer green in color. They drop to his lips and he mirrors it with his own soon after, tilting his head to slowly lean in.

“Noct?” a familiar voice calls from inside the windows and they spring apart, smiling sheepishly at each other. Ignis reaches out to gently touch Noctis’ hand where it’s fallen, a promise of continuation.

“Over here,” Noctis calls back, waiting for Prompto to appear in the window frame but tenses as another voice chimes in.

“Now I’ll be damn impressed if you’re plantin’ vegetables out there."

“Sunflowers,” says Ignis, seemingly unfazed by the appearance of two newcomers. He knows Prompto from class, though he’s not in any this spring semester, but he's sizing up Gladio curiously as the man snorts.

Noctis rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a mess of anxiety caught in his chest. He’d hoped to have put off the introductions - if they don't like each other, he's not sue what he'll do. “What are you doing here Gladio?”

“Well now, I was invited wasn’t I,” he teases, patting Prompto on the shoulder as the other buckles under the strength of it. “Heard there was a book club and couldn’t resist.” He gives Noctis a knowing grin and he blushes straight to his ears.

“I believe we haven’t yet made an acquaintance, though I’ve heard numerous stories,” says Ignis wryly, rising and wiping his hands on a towel before moving to the window. “Ignis Scientia.”

“Gladio.” They clasp their hands in a firm handshake. “Not sure what all Princess has told you, but I can guarantee he’s left the best parts out.” 

As Ignis laughs and leans against the sill to make conversation, Noctis stands and tries to brush as much of the dirt from him as possible. He pouts at Prompto with pleading eyes, but he only shrugs and greets them with an unwavering smile.

“Are we going to get this show on the road or what?” asks Gladio and holds up a bag full of books from his own collection. 

Having his quality time with Ignis intruded on sparks Noctis' anxiety, but the breeze against his back snuffs it out for good, and as the others all smile and laugh at whatever ridiculous novella Gladio’s brought along, he knows there’s no place he’d rather be than right here in the midst of his favorite people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis, practicing his bedroom eyes: Hey Prom  
> Prompto: Uhh, you okay? Got something in your eye buddy?  
> Noctis, sighing: Nevermind
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! <33 Tell me your favorite part so far down below?


	5. Childhood Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On rare occasions when his grading holds him hostage well into the evenings, the moonflowers' scent will float in through the windows on the warm breeze that sweeps across their broad white petals tinted blue in the waning moonlight. They remind him of Noctis, and he likes the comfort the lingering memory of his presence brings him._
> 
> In which a late night conversation blooms into something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!! So sorry for the wait, but I will be finishing this fic for sure I can promise you that! There's only going to be six chapters for this story since I did a oneshot for day four, so this is technically the last one as the next is more of an epilogue. I hope you like it <3
> 
> Day Six: Childhood Promises
> 
> Enjoy~

When he’s done planting the sunflowers, Ignis works on setting up a trellis for the moonflowers. The dichotomy of the two is not lost on him and he likes the thought of their balance - day and night, sun and moon, thriving separately but together. 

He’s not often at his office late enough to fully enjoy them, but they’re reminiscent of the bunch that had woven up the porch of his childhood home. On rare occasions when his grading holds him hostage well into the evenings, the moonflowers' scent will float in through the windows on the warm breeze that sweeps across their broad white petals tinted blue in the waning moonlight. They remind him of Noctis, and he likes the comfort the lingering memory of his presence brings him.

At first, it’s hard to adjust to Prompto and Gladio’s presence inside the bubble they’ve built over the months. He and Noctis have been walking a fine line, teasing and pulling the boundaries to see who will tip over first. They'd almost ended it right there in the gardens, Ignis' desire built and restless, so it’s hard not to let the unexpected company feed into his frustration. It’s easier when he discovers Gladio makes an excellent discussion partner and how Prompto manages to pull smile after brilliant smile out of Noctis. Never has Ignis’ office felt as full as it does on the days their conversations dissolve into pleasant laughter and shared smiles.

They all take turns picking books to read, passing their favorites around to discuss like fine samples of wine, but as the days grow longer and finals grow closer they have to cut back on their meetups. Caelum Industries is picking up in speed for the upcoming summer season, eating away at both Noct and Gladio’s free time, and the wear of it shows in the slumped curve of Noct’s shoulders and the shadows beneath his eyes. When it’s only the two of them, he tends to nap curled up in his favorite armchair and Ignis lets him rest, happy to provide a respite for him if only for a few hours here and there.

It’s difficult to see him so worn down and he tries once more to bring up the option of art school. He doesn’t pretend to know Noctis’ father, but he’d seemed genuinely invested in his son’s wellbeing at the Yuletide ball and Ignis has a suspicion he only cares if his son is happy, but when he voices this Noctis’ eyes grow distant as he crosses his arms defensively before making a hasty exit with some half-formed excuse. He doesn’t ask again; doesn’t want to feel the pain of being entirely shut out ever again if he can help it.

Exam season falls upon them soon enough and Ignis finds himself burning the late night oil as he marks papers. The windows are open and the cool evening air filters through with the sound of crickets chirping in the distance and the faint fragrance of the moonflowers. The sunflowers are taller now, sprouting up beautifully to peek over the edge of the sill with their pointed, yellow crowns. 

Office hours are closed, have been since the last harried student had appeared in a last-ditch study attempt on Friday, so when the door opens Ignis jumps. He's not expecting Noctis to step inside, shock white in the low light and teetering where he stands until he slumps back against the door.

“Noctis what’s wrong?” He hurries over to him with fear’s tight grip around his throat to steady him as he sways.

“Nothing.”

“Well, now, that’s not true is it,” says Ignis and pulls him to lean against him, smoothing a hand up and down his back. 

He’d hoped they were past this, more stable in the bond they’ve built over the passing months, but he knows now how difficult it is sometimes for Noctis to vocalize his thoughts. Opinions on books are the easy side of expression, but emotions are harder to speak of. It helps that he wears them so plainly on his face - enough for Ignis to know when he’s not alright, when he needs to be left alone, or when he needs a push.

It’s quiet between them, save for the crickets, and Noctis gradually melts into the curve of his shoulder, his hands coming up to grab at the back of Ignis’ shirt. “I talked to my dad,” he says and Ignis freezes.

“Noct…” Ignis assumes the worst, his mind running through all the horrible possibilities of what’s gone wrong. It’s his fault for pushing him so hard. He’d thought perhaps… but what does he know, having only met Regis once. But still, he feels torn by the belief that Noctis would’ve harbored a lasting regret for never pursing his desires. Whatever the case, Ignis holds him closer. “I’m so sorry, we can still figure this out.”

Noctis fidgets, detangling their embrace to shake his head. “He said _yes._ ”

“Pardon?” asks Ignis, blinking slowly as he processes it. The relief surges through him like a breath of fresh air as he raises his hands to cup Noct’s face, smiling down fondly. “This is wonderful! You’ll be able to attend art school like you want…” he pauses, taking in how Noct’s eyebrows have pushed together. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I…” Noctis stops, still wide-eyed and shaken. “I don’t know. When I was young, I promised myself... I always thought I’d follow in my his footsteps, you know? And now that I have the opportunity to do something different… What if? What if I get there and I don’t like it? What if I chose wrong?” 

He fidgets restlessly in Ignis’ hold before peering up at him from under the shadow of his long lashes. “I’m scared,” he says quietly.

Ignis smiles fondly and pulls him back in, carding a hand through his hair. “Do you remember what I told you when you first came into my office? About opportunities?” he asks, rocking them slightly side to side and relishing when Noctis hums and brings his hands up to rest around his shoulders. "It’s perfectly alright if you get there and change your mind. The important thing is you’re starting _somewhere_ and that I’ll support you no matter which way you decide to go in life.” It’s a brave admission when they still haven’t explicitly talked about what they are, but Ignis’ heart is leading him along by the hand. 

“Iggy…” he breathes and Ignis’ heart pounds wildly in his chest when he smiles. “There is one thing I’m sure of in my life.” Noct pauses, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw. “And it’s that I want you in it,” he says shakily, “if you’ll have me.”

The words find their home in Ignis’ chest and he can barely contain the mirrored smile pulling at his lips. He leans in to press his forehead against Noct’s, closing his eyes as he revels in the moment between them. Noctis’ lips are a whisper away, and he feels the ache in him so acutely it burns. “Of course,” he says. “I’d have it no other way.”

When they kiss it feels like coming home. 

Something clicks between them, a swell of the passion that’s been held back for so long, and Noct’s hands snag Ignis’ collar as he arches up against him. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and Ignis tries to memorize the feel of Noctis against him, pours all of his heart into their kiss. Now that he knows for sure he isn’t alone in this, he wants dearly to hold Noctis close and treasure him as long as he’ll let him; wants to hole up in their safe space they’ve made together and blur together until they’re indistinguishable. A needy noise slips out into the kiss Ignis gasps and accepts it when Noct’s tongue dashes in for a swipe before pulling back. They pant heavily into the space between them, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy as they blink slowly in the low light of the office. 

The skin of Noct’s cheek is tinged blue in the moonlight, smooth as Ignis strokes across the rise of it as he stares up with wide eyes beneath his fringe. The warmth hasn’t left, simmering brightly in Ignis’ chest as Noctis leans up to press a peck to his slack mouth, and then another and another, until slowly their kisses dissolve into matching smiles while outside the moonflowers bloom in full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left! Thank you guys so much for your comments and kudos, they mean the world to me <33 Also if you follow my story Divenire that'll be the next one to update c:


	6. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The white sheets are rumpled where they rest below the base of Ignis’ back, his skin smooth and glowing in the morning sun, and Noctis mirrors the curves of his spine with sweeping strokes of graphite. Although his eyes are closed, Noctis knows he’s awake, his hair mussed and fanned out across the pillow soft as silk._
> 
> In which we reach the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well lovelies, this is it! Please take note of the rating change and tags, as this chapter - and [the gorgeous art](https://glaivescientia.tumblr.com/post/169979639357/iggy-is-getting-that-royal-dick-tonight-%E1%83%A6-%E1%83%A6-i) that inspired it - are both NSFW. Not your cup of tea? No worries, just skip from the line "Slowly, Noctis’ hands skim along the staircase of his ribs..." to this line "He strokes his clean hand through Ignis’ soft locks".
> 
> Thank you guys so much for coming on this journey with me and for all your kudos and comments - they mean the world. And so without further ado ~~and hella late~~ :
> 
> Day Seven: Always
> 
> Enjoy~

It’s a rare occurrence for Noctis to be fully awake before Ignis, especially when he wants nothing more than to curl up next to his boyfriend and doze off once again in the warm, yellow light. A late summer breeze shifts the long, gossamer curtains framing their open balcony doors while Noctis sits in bed with his sketchbook laid out on his lap. 

The white sheets are rumpled where they rest below the base of Ignis’ back, his skin smooth and glowing in the morning sun, and Noctis mirrors the curves of his spine with sweeping strokes of graphite. Although his eyes are closed, Noctis knows he’s awake, his hair mussed and fanned out across the pillow soft as silk. Faint noise from the street drift in through the window, but the only other sound is the scratching of pencil on paper.

He hardly ever sees his boyfriend like this anymore, what with fall semester classes in full swing – both at Ignis’ university and Noctis’ art school down the road. But weekends belong to them, and sometimes, if Noctis plays his cards right, he can successfully convince Ignis to have lie in with him.

Beneath his fingers, pages fill with studies to warm up – the rise of Ignis’ cheekbones, his elegant brows and slender nose, his thin, curved lips barely parted – before Noctis starts in on a full body sketch. He’s shading in a light background of the balcony doors when Ignis stirs, eyes hazy as he blinks and smiles so brilliantly that Noctis violently flips a page, rushing to save it on paper.

“Morning,” he says when he’s finished, setting the sketchbook aside and ducking to kiss Ignis’ cheek. He gets only a hum in return, followed by the whisper of Ignis’ legs shifting beneath the sheets. “Thanks for letting me draw you.”

“Always,” mumbles Ignis, bringing up Noctis’ hand to kiss the knuckles.

Project done, the tempting expanse of his back becomes too much to resist and Noctis slides over to lie along the warmth of his skin. Their breathing settles into rhythm and Noctis takes his time feathering kisses along the length of Ignis’ neck, relishing in the soft, appreciative noises they coax out of him. Slowly, Noctis’ hands skim along the staircase of his ribs, sneaking between his hips and the bed.

“This okay?” he asks, finding Ignis half hard in the sheets and when he brushes the faintest touch along him it draws out a small groan.

“Yes." It comes out muffled as he tilts his face further into the pillow, arching into Noctis’ length resting firm against his lower back.

“Like this?” Noctis rolls his hips. “Or do you want me to ride you?” 

The images flash through his mind as the words cross his lips – pressing Ignis further into the sheets and lavishing him as he rocks his hips again and again or rolling him over instead and watching him stare blearily up at Noctis like he’s come down from heaven itself to sit on his dick or maybe something entirely different – and desire pools low in his groin. Whatever way Ignis wants him is fine with him.

Moaning, Ignis rolling his hips and bringing his hands up to fist at the bedding. “Like this.”

He's smiling, small and secretive as his blonde lashes cast shadows on his cheek, and Noctis is struck how different his life would be if he hadn’t stolen all those chocolate kisses. He can’t believe he got so lucky.

Slowly he slides along Ignis’ body, taking time to steal _real_ kisses along the way and rubbing his hands along his sides as he follows the taper of his hips up to the breadth of his shoulders and back. When he reaches the base of his spine Noctis pushes the sheets aside and settles onto his knees between Ignis’ long legs as he pauses to appreciate them, palming the corded muscle built from years of training. He drags his nails across his skin, watching the white lines turn red and fade, before lifting him by the hips to rest propped on Noctis' thighs.

He finds their discarded bottle of lube underneath the comforter kicked to the end of the bed and is quick to snap the cap open and pour some onto his fingers. Ignis shifts at the sound, pushing onto Noctis' lap and brushing his hard cock, wrenching a moan from Noctis’ lungs. He has to regain his breath before steadying Ignis with a grip on his hips and swiping the pads of his fingers against his rim.

Noctis loves this part – loves the way Ignis sighs and arches as he tries to roll his hips again, the tip of the finger slowly edging inside; loves the way he comes undone beneath him, slowly and completely. He slides into the tight, slick heat easily, until he hits the base of his finger and drags it out slowly only to push it in again with more lube. He builds a steady rhythm and his own cock aches as he works, but he ignores it in favor of trailing his free hand between the scattered moles and freckles along Ignis’ skin.

When Ignis has all but melted into the sheets, Noctis eases his finger out only to return with two, spreading and stretching. Pride burns hot in his chest at how open and utterly pliant Ignis is now, a flush rising up on his cheeks as he pants. “More.”

Unable to withstand the demand, Noctis teases a third finger along where he’s stretched, pushing slowly until it slides in next to the other. He angles them, firm and searching until Ignis cries out and clenches tightly as his hips jerk, cock brushing hard against Noctis' thighs. It’s the breaking point – Ignis tumbling over his boundary of quiet restraint, his voice ringing out unabashed as Noctis fucks his fingers into him relentlessly.

“Noct,” he moans, peering over his shoulder. The light catches on the green of his piercing gaze and Noctis hastily spreads his fingers once more for good measure.

The cold lube on his cock helps pull Noctis back from the edge and he slicks himself thoroughly and rubs against Ignis’ stretched rim. The head catches and pulling out another sharp gasp and Noctis smiles – pride welling up in his chest at the fact that he’s made Ignis unravel without having even fucked him yet. He teases him again, sliding but not pushing. “Good?”

_“Yes,”_ says Ignis and Noctis settles him more firmly into his lap before lining up, pressing slowly and steadily until Ignis opens up around him.

Closing his eyes, Noctis pauses when the head slips in and joins them together. It's hard not to lose it then and there when Ignis is a vice around his cock, gripping the sheets and moaning, drawn out and needy and _perfect_. Noctis bites his lip and snaps his hips forward in one stroke.

He sets a steady rhythm, watching his cock slide in and out and leaning over to trace the red marks pressed into Ignis’ hips and the flush spreading over his shoulders in the morning light. The breeze keeps them cool, chilling the sweat beading along Noctis' brow and the small of his back as they rock. 

Too soon, the edge looms near again and he groans, slumping over Ignis still fully seated inside. The angle’s deep and he keeps up a steady shift, barely pulling out at all as he nips at the curve of a shoulder. Ignis hums, tilting his hips up into him as they pause, tied together and throbbing with need as they exchange languid, open-mouthed kisses, lips gliding together softly as they dip again and again to drink deeply. It’s impossible to tell where he ends and Ignis begins, sealed together so closely Noctis feels they share a heart. Never before has he felt so close to another soul in all his life.

Breaking the kiss, he rolls his hips sharply and Ignis shouts in surprise before it chokes off into a sob. Noctis sits back up to spread a hand between the wings of his shoulders, pinning him to the bed as he strikes up a rough pace, the sound of their hips meeting loud and lewd. Faintly he wonders if any of the neighbors have _their_ windows open and groans at the thought as he fucks Ignis harder.

All too soon the pressure is building once more and this time Noctis lets it swell, lets the fire in his gut burn him from the inside out. He slips his hand under Ignis’ hips to stroke him, gripping firmly as he twists the wet head, and within a few more thrusts Ignis is coming, crying out into the pillow as Noctis fucks him through it. His hips stutter, snapping against the rise of Igins’ ass and holding there as he rides it out before slumping over to cover him like a blanket. 

They catch their breath together, the rise of their chests synchronizing, until Ignis shifts uncomfortably beneath him and Noctis pulls out slowy. He knows how sensitive they both are, but he can’t help but watch his come trickles out of Ignis, smearing a thumb over it to push it back inside. Squirming, Ignis groans and reaches back to tug him down, nose tucking into the curve of Noctis' neck.

He strokes his clean hand through Ignis’ soft locks – golden in the sun rising over the neighboring building – and settles in to bask in the rising warmth as a lazy peck is smeared across his collarbone.

“Shower,” Ignis mumbles. “Laundry.”

Noctis kisses the top of his head. “Later.” He wonders how long he can convince Ignis to lie in – for at least a while more, he thinks as Ignis goes limp, drifting off once more.

“Love you,” he says, the words mouthed into Noctis' throat. They find their home in his ribcage, warm and bright as he steals another kiss from Ignis’ lips. 

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading this story <3 Let me know if you liked it down below!
> 
> [tumblr](http://thenameisfame.tumblr.com) | [writing blog](http://countingpaperstars.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/thenameisfame)


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